Bright
by TheBooker
Summary: The Indigo Spell one-shot, Sydney POV: I can say without a doubt that this is the most uncomfortable I had ever felt around Adrian Ivashkov. Spoilers ahoy for The Golden Lily.


**BRIGHT**

I can say without a doubt that this is the most uncomfortable I had ever felt around Adrian Ivashkov.

Of all the Moroi, he was perhaps the least threatening. At times it seemed impossible that he was a vampire like the rest. His company was something that typically set me at ease, but this was completely different.

He was evil, and I had told him as much for the last hour.

If he cared, he didn't show it. He was as nonchalant as ever, with his lips curled in that smirk of his. _I amused him, _I realised. If anything my complaints were making his smile widen. I had actually realised this earlier, but had no other tactics in mind but voicing my objection.

Impatience was not usually my thing, but neither was this torture.

"How much longer is this going to take?" I asked, somewhat irritably. When I spoke, I was reminded of another of my evil friends, Rose Hathaway. _They are a bad influence on me. _

Adrian kinked his brow in response to my outburst, but within moments his face relaxed and his previous expression had returned. "You can't rush art, Sage." He said simply. I should have expected his answer would be along those lines and after that, I remained silent.

Satisfied with his response, his face once again disappeared behind the canvas. I couldn't see what he was doing, which was equally frustrating, but every so often his hand moved to apply more paint to the brush in his grip.

It was over an hour ago that I had received his text message: _SOS. _The sender being Adrian, it was difficult to predict whether or not he was being serious. Knowing that in the past he had sent such texts for the most mundane of reasons, I had been tempted to ignore him. Then I realised that he might just have been serious for once – an army of Strigoi could have been outside his door and if I ignored him, I would be responsible for what happened to him.

_I didn't want anything bad to happen to him. _

When I pulled up outside his apartment in Latte a few minutes later and found white sheets and paint everywhere, I realised this was not the kind of SOS I was equip to handle.

In fact, I doubted that anyone would be able to handle it, especially when I had been unknowingly employed as a model for the sake of Adrian's masterpiece. Ironically, it was for the art class that Ihad insisted he enrol in.

"Why me?" I had asked. "If you're as popular as you say you are, they'll be no shortage of girls wanting to pose for you."

"Aw, is Sage jealous?" His grin had been as frustrating then as it was now. Arrogant as he was, he was already setting up his workplace and mixing a gold-coloured paint. He spoke again without warning, his emerald eyes as focused as I'd ever seen them. "Anyway I don't want to paint them. I want to paint you - you're beautiful."

I felt my cheeks burn and at the reminder of his earlier compliment, I returned to reality. Since I had unwillingly agreed to be his model, I had been stood in the same spot with the window behind me. Apparently the rays of the mid-day sun that came through the blinds provided artistic inspiration.

My area of expertise was anything but art. As an alchemist, I had studied chemistry above everything else but I had knowledge of a lot of things. Jared Sage took home-schooling too seriously to let any opportunity slide, but Greek and Roman architecture were my true passions. Though it seemed unlikely that I would ever get to pursue them any further.

"Earth to Sage." The flippancy of the voice that came from before me broke me free of my train of thoughts. Adrian had moved out from behind the canvas, his fingers covered in dried paint. He regarded me with all of his usual humour, but beyond that I could still see remnants of the pain and longing I had seen one time before.

The kiss had changed everything. Before that, I enjoyed our light conversation and simply the ease of talking to him. Then he told me how he truly felt, before he kissed me – and I kissed him back. I had forced myself to leave and since then, things had not been the same between us.

At first, we avoided each other. The only indication of how he was feeling came from Jill, whose coldness towards me was a clue of his hurt ego and worse, his heartbreak. I knew enough about what happened between him and Rose to know that he was no stranger to it.

I felt bad for the pain I had caused, but it was not allowed. Just for being friends with Rose I had almost lost everything. If my father knew about Adrian, I would be sent to one of the re-education centres and Zoey would be reassigned to my position.

Yet as much as I wanted to forget it, I could not. _I had stopped thinking and I had kissed him back. _

When we finally saw each other again, Adrian acted as he had before. If anything, he was more distant and I maintained my own distance – for my sake, if not his. We had never spoken about what had happened, nor had we spent time alone if either of us could help it.

At times, like now, however, I could see that things were no longer as they had been before. Adrian still wanted me and in light of my refusal, his heart ached for mine. I could not say if mine did the same, but even if it did I could never admit it. Not if I wanted to keep Zoey out of this – and ensure that I didn't end up like Keith in re-education.

His voice filled the silence after another long moment. "You need to look at me so I can paint your face." His hands reached for me, his eyes seeking permission to touch me. When he saw no refusal, he gently lifted my face upwards and tilted it to the side. When he returned to the canvas, he would have a perfect view of the golden lily on my cheek.

I exhaled deeply the moment he let his hands drop back to his side, not realising that I had held my breath. _It's just for art, _I told myself. Still the intensity of his stare and the warm brush of his fingertips on my cheek made me wonder if art was all it was. I purposely dropped my gaze to the floor and by the time I lifted it, Adrian had returned to the canvas and was painting once more.

I didn't move from the position I had been put in, nor did I allow my mind to wander astray. Instead I watched as he moved the brush in careful strokes, every so often glancing upwards before the emerald focused on his work with a look of uttermost concentration.

Concentration and Adrian Ivashkov were two things I could not typically associate with one another. Yet I saw the way he regarded each stroke of the brush as if it was the matter between life and death. It was hard to say if he usually adopted such devotion to his art work, or this piece was special, as I had never seen him at work before. I had only seen the finished pieces – and they were incredible.

The sun was beginning to set by the time Adrian put his brush to one side and waved me over. His smile had returned, seemingly effortless. When he lifted the canvas off its stand, I could see why he was smiling. It had turned out great, though the person in the painting wasn't someone I recognised.

I had expected, despite Adrian's talent, a plain portrait of a plain girl. If it wasn't for the tattoo on my cheek, I would not have guessed it was me. It was far from the simplicity I had expected.

The figure was magnificent, cloaked in a golden shadow that seemed to make her glow like some otherworldly creature. She stared back at me from the canvas with eyes of molten gold, the same as the lily that rested on her cheek. Her hair flew behind her like a mane, only to blur out of focus with the yellows and reds of the background.

Instead of the simple shirt-and-skirt combo I favoured now, she wore the red dress I had at Halloween. It was the same dress that Adrian had been so crazy about, even if my actual date, Brayden, felt the opposite.

"It's like one of the Greek goddesses," I thought aloud.

Adrian added the painting to his collection, leaving it at the front so the last remnants of wet paint could dry. He turned back to face me, giving only a small nod as an indication that he had heard me. He made it seem so simple. "It was your dress at Halloween that gave me the idea. You're my muse, Sage."

Like before, when he had called me beautiful, I met the room grow smaller and suddenly uncomfortable. Why did he have to do this? Why did he have to make it so difficult?

"Adrian-" I started, but couldn't find the words for once. He cut me off with a slight raise of his hands.

"No, you don't have to say it." I noticed that any trace of his earlier smile was gone, replaced with a blank expression I wasn't used to. I waited for him to say more but he shook his head and wandered over to where his alcohol was.

While he poured himself a drink, I looked again at the painting. I found that I could barely take my eyes off it. Was this really how he saw me? I felt strange at the thought, yet I suddenly felt the need to thank him.

Yet when I found him in the kitchen, he was already on his second glass. He held it in his grip and watched as it swirled round the glass, clearly going to painful lengths to avoid looking at me. "You had better go now." His tone wasn't cold exactly, but it held no trace of its earlier good humour.

All of that seemed to have inflated out of him after he touched me.

Adrian's moods were unpredictable on account of spirit, but I was surprised how quickly his flippant manner had gone. I knew better than to stay, so within a moment I was at the door.

Had things been the way they were before, I would have felt no qualms at asking what was wrong. I had developed a friendship with Rose in Russia and now I had friendships at Palm Springs – Jill, Eddie, Adrian. I had once shied away from vampires, but I now befriended them.

Yet things were different with Adrian now and worse, I had a fairly good impression what was the issue here. It was me, and I could not help him anymore than I could help myself.

The last time I had left his apartment like this, Adrian had been the one feeling hurt and regret. This time, I couldn't help but feel like our roles had reversed. I turned back for a moment, hoping to see that he was looking at me. Unlike last time, he didn't linger in the doorway. He was still stood in the kitchen, staring at his drink.

I turned from him and walked away, unsure as ever about what I had done – or more so what I hadn't done.

* * *

**A/N: It's my first time writing for Sydrian but ****I dunno. I kind of hate it so I may come back and edit it at some point. :/ I dunno whether I should keep it as a one shot or turn it into a TIS fanfic. The only thing is there's loads of amazing ones and I don't think I could compete with them. **

******Anyways I'm on a downer so ignore me.  
**


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